06-03-2012, 06:00 AM
His ears flattened to his head, tail lying limp against the mattress. His son couldn't me dead... something was telling him otherwise, but that still didn't mean he couldn't be sad. He was stuck here, not that he minded, however, he wanted to be with his small family. He wanted to hold both of his sons in his arms and shield them from the hateful things of their world.
"No... I'll help. I want to see for sure if he is dead and maybe... I can see my youngest son." He softly smiled as he thought of his young tiger cub with eyes as bright as his and short, curly hair.
Aza sighed, a hand shakily running through his wild red hair, "I'm Azarael, a thirteen-year-old soldier thrown into battle for no reason other than the "King" demanding it." He snarled and sighed, "I'm sorry to say, but your hunch is wrong. There is nothing interesting or special about me."